Tenth Walkers
by Huinesoron
Summary: 'Can a Tenth Walker fanfic be done well' Some scene-length explorations of how it could be.
1. Pippin: The Tenth Walker

The Fellowship was three nights out from Rivendell. The day was overcast, with occasional showers of rain, causing several of the Walkers to stir restlessly in their sleep. As the hazy sun reached midday, Aragorn rose from his seat and crossed to Lîngalad. He touched her shoulder gently, and she snapped instantly to wakefulness.

"Thank you, Lord Aragorn," she said, sitting up and running her fingers through her hair. "What news?"

"None," Aragorn told her. "The day is quiet – nothing more than a wood-pigeon and a roving badger has passed us."

"Then get some rest," Lîngalad told him. "Gandalf will hardly delay simply because little Estel didn't sleep well."

Aragorn laughed softly. "Not so little any more," he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "But your advice is still excellent. I-"

"Wait." Lîngalad held up a hand for silence and tilted her head, listening. Aragorn held his breath and stretched out his hearing. Close by, Sam and Gimli were both snoring softly, and Merry turned in his blankets. Further out, a squirrel leapt through the trees, and-

It was barely more than a leaf moving in the wind – but there was something. Aragorn rose, and felt Lîngalad touch his hand.

"We cannot both go," she whispered. "It is not orcs – they never move so silently – but it may still be a danger. Someone must guard the camp."

Aragorn hesitated, then nodded his assent. "Your hearing surpasses mine," he said, and rested his hand on Andúril's hilt. "I will stand watch a little longer – even if it means I am unrested come nightfall."

Lîngalad grinned. "The sacrifices you make, Estel…" Then, her tread so light as to not even bend the grass, she was gone.

It was some time before she returned, and Aragorn began to grow concerned. Even the sharpest ear could not hear an elf moving through the forest, but the silence was so total that he feared she had been ambushed, taken silently captive – or slain. He rose, sat down again, then stood abruptly and strode towards Gandalf. At that very moment, a branch moved, and Lîngalad stepped into the camp – with a very familiar figure in tow.

Aragorn felt an urge to bury his head in his hands. "Peregrin Took," he said, his heart heavy, his tone forced lightness. "I was under the impression we left you in Rivendell."

Pippin folded his arms. "Before you left, I told Lord Elrond he would have to tie me in a sack and ship me home if he didn't want me to follow you," he said, his voice stern, his eyes hard. "Is it my fault he didn't believe me?"

_Continued in Chapter 6_

* * *

**Disclaimer:** _The Lord of the Rings_ and all characters and locations from it belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm just borrowing them.

**Author's Note:** On a forum I frequent, the question was recently asked: Can a Tenth Walker fanfic be done well? The vast majority of these stories seem to consist of the author's self-insert joining the Fellowship in order to simultaneously upstage the canon characters, sleep with one of the Walkers, and do absolutely nothing to affect the plot.

It's my belief that Tenth Walkers _can_ be well done. In this set of scenes - not a continuous story, don't expect continuity of characters or events - I will explore things that I think could happen in a good Tenth Walker fanfic. Some will be my own ideas, some will be suggested by others.

This one is my own. Lîngalad (Sindarin for 'Lake-light') is an elf of Elrond's household (and is an original character, or OC). In the books (this is bookverse), Elrond planned to send elves like her instead of Merry and Pippin - or, as he said to Gandalf, at the very least Pippin, who he considered too young for him to send. This is set in an AU where Elrond holds to that plan - and where Pippin doesn't play along.


	2. Eomer: The Ninth Walker

Éomer folded his arms. "I will not enter the Golden Wood," he said emphatically. "The Witch who dwells there has snared many of my kinsfolk."

"Rumours and hearsay," Aragorn ground out. "The Lady Galadriel would have no hand in such a thing."

"So says one who dwelt long in the house of Elrond," Éomer pointed out. "Your pardon, Lord Aragorn, but I have little faith in your words."

"And I have less," Gimli growled. "The Lord and Lady you speak of are a legend among my kin – as is the fact that they forsook us when Durin's Bane came."

"And what might they have done?" Legolas demanded, glaring at the dwarf. "Even Mithrandir could not face the Balrog and live."

"They might," Gimli said with scathing sarcasm, "have taken us in – given us aid – even simply allowed us passage through their lands. But the stories of my forefathers are clear: the noble Lord and Lady sealed their borders, and we had to face the orcs in the open night."

Frodo lifted his head. "Must we fight amongst ourselves?" he asked plaintively. "The enemy is on our heels. We can't stay here. We have to go into the woods."

"And I tell you again: I will not set foot in Dwimordene, though ten thousand orcs ran behind me."

"And I tell you," said Aragorn, "there is no other way. In Lórien we will be safe."

"I stand now on the borders of my own lands," Éomer said. "Lord Elrond said we were free to depart as we chose. Very well: I so choose. I will journey south and cross the Limlight into Rohan."

"And I with you," said Gimli. The dwarf glanced at the hobbits – particularly Merry, who looked nothing short of distraught – and sighed. "And, as we go," he said, "we will draw the orcs away from your trail. You will make it safely into the Golden Wood."

"Though I fear you will never leave again," Éomer said darkly. "Frodo – for the last time, will you not turn aside from this perilous course?"

"All roads lead into peril for the Ringbearer," said Frodo quietly. "If I could believe that Rohan held safety, I would go with you. But my heart bids me heed Aragorn's words. I will enter Lothlórien."

"So be it," Éomer sighed. "Then it is all I can do to bid you – fare well."

_Continued in Chapter 7_

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**Disclaimer:** _The Lord of the Rings_ and all characters and locations therefrom belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

**Author's Note:** This isn't exactly a Tenth Walker - it's a Ninth Walker. What if Boromir, on his journey to Rivendell, had taken as a companion Éomer - second in line to the throne of Rohan, Third Marshal of the Mark, a man who basically occupied the same position in Rohan as Boromir's brother Faramir did in Gondor? And what if, when the Fellowship was formed, Boromir declared his intent to travel straight home via the Gap of Rohan - while Éomer became one of the Nine Walkers?


	3. Snaga: The Enemy Walker

Caradhras had defeated the Fellowship of the Ring. As they staggered down into the foothills, Sam couldn't keep from casting a glare back at the mountain. All that work, and for what? They were right back where they started.

Ahead, Legolas' head suddenly snapped round. "Mithrandir!" he called - the Elvish version of Gandalf's name. "I hear something!"

Gandalf brought the Fellowship to a halt. Without waiting to be asked, Legolas darted off ahead, into the trees, and after a few moments Sam heard him exclaim something in his native tongue.

Gandalf's brow furrowed, and he beckoned the others forward. "There is no danger," he told them. "But there is need for haste. Come." The Fellowship hurried after him - Aragorn and Boromir first, then the hobbits, and finally Gimli bringing up the rear.

Legolas had stopped in the shade of an ancient oak tree. He stood bolt upright, staring down at a dark bundle on the ground. Gandalf hastened to his side, while the others halted a short distance back.

Pippin drew in a sharp breath as he saw the bundle. "Is that-?"

"It is an orc," Gandalf told him, "one of the smaller breed which infests the Misty Mountains."

"Is it... dead?" the young hobbit asked.

Gandalf knelt down at the orc's side. "Not quite," he said after a quick investigation, handing Legolas a black dagger (Sam noted that Legolas seemed to be doing his best to hold the knife without actually touching it). "It has a wounded arm - and there is the Sun to consider. Orcs hate and fear her light."

Boromir's face twisted in disgust. "Kill it now," he said, "before it recovers." Behind him, Gimli nodded agreement, hefting his axe, and even Merry drew his blade.

"No!" Legolas exclaimed, stepping between the Company and the orc. "When I arrived it was calling out - asking for help in its dark tongue. It fell silent when it saw me, but... my people will never kill an orc which has surrendered. I will not start today."

"Then stand aside, elf," growled Gimli. "You need not sully your arrows with its blood - my axe is thirsty."

Sam heard motion beside him, and to his surprise Frodo walked forward. Sam hurried after as his master brushed past Legolas and knelt at Gandalf's side. "Does it speak the Common Tongue?" Frodo asked.

"Doubtful," Gandalf told him, "or else it would already have spoken. But I believe it understands our talk, even if it cannot reply."

Frodo looked uncertain. "If we leave it here," he said, "it may tell other spies of Sauron that we have passed. The Enemy could guess our errand."

Gandalf nodded. "You see the dilemma," he said. "We must either kill it - which Legolas will not permit, and I would not approve of - or..."

"Or take it with us," Frodo murmured. "But that..."

"Precisely." Gandalf stood back up, then poked the orc with the tip of his staff. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself, creature? I know you are listening."

"_Skai, sharkû!_" the orc spat, and continued to snarl in its horrible-sounding language for some time. Sam heard Boromir muttering in the background, and even Aragorn shifted uncertainly. Finally, the orc stopped, and Gandalf shook his head in wonderment.

"You were correct, Legolas," he said, not looking away from the orc. "Snaga here - that is the only name she knows, it means 'slave' in their tongue - was indeed asking for your help."

"She?" Sam exclaimed, then slapped a hand over his mouth. Gandalf looked at him, a twinkle in his eye.

"She. As an orcish slave, that difference matters little. She understands some of our speech - enough to know that her life is in danger, though as she says, she knew that anyway - and wishes to bargain for her life. She offers information."

"As if we would trust anything it tells us!" Boromir said.

Legolas nodded. "Mithrandir, I would not kill it - but nor would I believe it."

"We will have a chance to discover the truth or falsehood of her words very soon, I fear," Gandalf said, looking weary. "She tells me the Wargs have come west of the mountains."

_Continued in Chapter 8_

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**Disclaimer: **Middle-earth and everyone in it are Tolkien's.

******Author's Note:** darklordaakmal suggested the notion of an orc joining the Fellowship. This is one way in which I think it could plausibly happen. And, yes, little Snaga here derails the plot - I imagine her knowing that there is a 'Ghâshgûl', a Fire-Wraith, in Moria, which may well help Gandalf to realise in advance the true identity of Durin's Bane. Would he still lead the Fellowship through Moria, knowing a Balrog awaited? What if Snaga claimed to know of another way through the mountains...?

(And yes, it's true - elves wouldn't kill orcs who surrendered. Of course, orcs never _did_ surrender, but it's the thought that counts)


	4. Elrond: Counting the Walkers

Elrond stood staring out of the window, his back to the door. "Ringbearer," the Lord of Imladris said, not turning. "Thank you for coming."

"Lord Elrond," Frodo said from the door, "your counsel is invaluable to me, and you - I mean - you have been a great-"

"I understand, Frodo." Elrond turned, a small smile on his face. "Many years ago, I myself was... overawed, shall we say, by the presence of my elders. When the Last Alliance marched against Sauron, it seemed as if every king in the world rode with us. Isildur of Arnor and Anárion of Gondor were ever at the forefront on the plains, but in the forests of Wilderland Amdír of Lothlórien and Oropher of Greenwood - or later his son, Thranduil - broke the trail. Even the Dwarves joined us, and Durin's folk and Durin's leadership brought us safely through the Misty Mountains. And the grandeur of our army!" Frodo realised that Elrond's mind was far away, walking in the living memory of the elves. "Lindon was emptied - under Círdan, every last vestige of the great realms of old marched to war. And, yes, there was I - I with my small household out of Rivendell, thrust into the service of the High Kings. Gil-Galad and Elendil - names that echo in my thoughts even now."

In Frodo's mind's eye, visions of the armies of old flared in brilliant colour - but painted in broad strokes, like the work of an artist who had never witnessed the muster. "I wish... I wish I could have seen it," he murmured.

Elrond seemed to snap back to the present. "Do you?" he asked sadly. "I wish I had not had to. And more than that... I wish we had completed our task, that this meeting might never have happened." He sighed, and looked out of the window again, towards the west. "But the Powers do not grant wishes, Frodo. In this task, in this Middle-earth, we must find our own path."

Beyond the Elf Lord's shadow, Frodo could see a single star gleaming in the evening sky - Eärendil, the Evening Star. "But not without light to guide us," he said suddenly.

Elrond smiled. "Indeed," he said. "And that is why I have called you here: guidance. You must have companions on your quest, to guide and guard you and Samwise. Gandalf, indeed, has already agreed to lead your company, and for the others..."

The Lord of Imladris looked once again towards the evening star. "Ten lords and kings faced Sauron and could not defeat him," he said. "Perhaps ten walkers, with no armies at their back, can succeed where we failed. And as the Last Alliance brought together all the Free Peoples of Middle-earth, so shall the Fellowship of the Ring consist of representatives of all those whose hopes rest on you. For Men..."

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**Disclaimer:** Tolkien's, not mine.

**Author's Note:** The question was asked by Phobos and Ekyl: how can you justify a Tenth Walker when there's the whole 'Nine Walkers against the Nine Riders of evil' symbolology going on? This is one answer: make Elrond count something else, instead. Heck, if you want _eleven_ walkers, you can add in Amroth, second King of Lórien, who succeeded his father under the same circumstances as Thranduil.


	5. Earnur: The Tenth Nazgul

The darkness

had lasted

a very

long

time.

"Wake."

The voice was less than a voice, and more than a command: a hiss, worming its way into his consciousness.

"Wake!"

His eyes snapped open. Where was it? He looked down at his hand, but it was gone, his finger was bare.

The voice chuckled. "You won't find it there, Your Majesty," it said mockingly. "It has returned to its master."

"No!" he exclaimed. "It's mine - my pre-"

"It is his," the voice snapped, "and_ you_ are his. If you ever wish to see it again, you will obey. You must... obey."

And now the second voice came, slithering into his mind, wrapping itself around his basest desires and ordering him upright.

He was standing before he realised what was happening. "No..." he moaned.

A shadow moved before him - but everything was shadowed now. Even the light that surrounded him was pale, washed out, a ghost light, a corpse light. He looked again at his hand, his bare finger where his precious ring had once sat. Even his skin seemed translucent, barely there.

The shadow moved again, and he saw it: the black robe, the dark armour beneath, the burning red eyes - and the crown.

"You!" he shouted, hearing his voice fall flat, feeling the snake in his mind coiling tighter. "You - what have you done to me?"

The Witch-King of Angmar laughed, long and low. "No more has been done to you," he hissed, "than you desired. A ruby ring with band of gold - strength, life beyond the knowledge of man... power."

He shook his head as if straining against bonds. "Gold - you said it would bring gold," he recalled, fighting through the haze of memories to that long-ago torture.

"And it would," the Witch-King agreed, "if it had gold to work on. But you are not one of those stunted mountain-dwellers, with their rock-like resilience. You are a man - and men are so very susceptible."

"I am a king," he said, shaking his head. "A descendant of Numenor."

"So was I, once," the Witch-King smiled. "It means nothing."

"I want to- I want-" He stammered to a halt, one eye twitching. "Where is it?"

"It will be returned to you in due time," the Witch-King told him. "But first - even a king must serve his master."

"I have no-" He cut off, feeling the serpent twining itself into his thoughts. And why shouldn't he obey? Even the dark Power that held him could not penetrate the depths of his mind, he was sure. And he needed his ring back...

"Service," he said, as if testing out the word. "Yes... I will serve."

"Excellent," the Witch-King said. "Then, Eärnur of Gondor, here is your first task: a skulking creature lurks in our valley. Find it - bring it to me - and perhaps our master will allow you to see your ring once more."

Eärnur bowed his head before the Lord of the Nazgûl and pulled his dark cloak around himself. "Yes, my lord," he hissed. "The master's will shall be obeyed."

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**Disclaimer: **J.R.R. Tolkien is both creator and owner of Middle-earth and everyone in it.

**Author's Note:** This is a possible preamble to a Tenth Walker fic, and answers Phobos' and Ekyl's question: how could you have ten Nazgûl? Without adding an extra ring, the obvious way is to have Sauron make use of the Dwarven Rings he reclaimed. And who would be the obvious candidate but Eärnur, last King of Gondor - the king who rode away from his entire kingdom to face the Witch-King at Minas Morgul, and never came back?

Of course, this would be far more interesting as _his_ story than as a way to make a Tenth Walker... but it would work nontheless.


	6. Lingalad: The Two Hunters

_Continued from Chapter 1_

The remaining members of the Fellowship of the Ring watched until Boromir's funeral boat passed out of sight into the mist thrown up by Rauros Falls. Then, finally, Aragorn turned to the other three.

"The Fellowship is broken," he said. "Frodo and Samwise are out of our reach. All we can do is hope to rescue our friends - and to defend these lands against the Enemy."

"And how are we to do that?" Gimli asked. "The four of us, against the shadow of Mordor? It is beyond all belief!"

"No more so than to believe that the Bearer can succeed in his mission," Lîngalad pointed out. "If he fails, all will be in vain either way. But if he should somehow complete the quest..."

"Then we should ensure he has a home to return to." Aragorn sighed and bowed his head, deep in thought.

"Why do we delay?" Legolas demanded. "The orcs are already far ahead of us - with every moment they carry the hobbits further away. Let us be off!"

"But which of us?" Aragorn said. "That is what I am wrestling with. Were there but three members of this Fellowship remaining, I should say in an instant - onwards! But we are four, and four might more profitably act as two pairs."

He shook his head, then looked to the south, towards the falls. "Gondor! How long I have longed to look again upon the White Tower, and see the majesty of the descendants of Númenor. And yet, my friends need my aid..."

"Not necessarily yours," Lîngalad pointed out. "We are two and two - and two of us are elves, light of foot and sharp of eye. To save the hobbits, there is a need for speed, not strength."

"And to face the full might of the enemy at Minas Tirith, we need force of arms," Gimli agreed. "Come, Aragorn - let the elves run over the plains and rescue our friends! As for you and I, we must walk the harder road - the road of duty, not loyalty."

Aragorn looked to Legolas, who nodded his agreement. "Then so be it. Lîngalad, Legolas, go now! Every moment matters. As for Gimli and myself - we will take the road south, through the wetlands, along Anduin - and so to Gondor."

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**Disclaimer: **All characters except Lîngalad belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

**Author's Note:** So once a Tenth Walker exists - what are they to do? Just copy-and-pasting the plot of the books or the movies is a waste of a story, frankly - we all know what happens in those. Each of the Fellowship left his mark on the events, even Legolas (who, as Tolkien said once, 'probably achieved the least of the Nine Walkers'). A Tenth Walker has to do the same.

And this is one of the things they can do (and a continuation of the story of Lîngalad from Chapter One): redistribute how the Fellowship breaks. There are other iterations, of course. She could have stayed by the boats and stopped Frodo from leaving - or helped him depart quicker, before Sam arrives - or gone with him, leaving Sam behind. She could have saved Boromir and preventing Merry and Pippin from being captured - or either one of those. If she were a hobbit, she could even have been captured with Merry and Pippin - but I think that will be another story.


	7. Aragorn: The Unbroken Fellowship

_Continued from Chapter 2_

The remaining Fellowship drew their boats into the shoreline at the green lawn known as Parth Galen. "We should rest here for a time," Aragorn said, laying down his oar. "Once we cross the lake, it will be hard going: the Emyn Muil lies before us, and then the passage between the marshes, before we come to the gates of the Enemy's land."

Frodo half-drew his sword and looked at the faintly glowing blade. "Orcs," he said. "Not close, but not so far either."

Aragorn nodded. "Likely they roam the woods on the far shore, and the near slopes of the Emyn Muil. We must be cautious."

"It will go easier if we wait until dawn," Legolas observed. "Even in the shade of the trees, the orcs will fear the daylight."

Aragorn glanced at the four hobbits. "I think we should have to stop for the night regardless," he said quietly. "Look at them, Legolas - they need rest before the final stage of the journey begins."

"And when we have passed the hills and the marshes?" Pippin piped up. "I still haven't heard how we plan to get into Mordor at all, let alone reach the Fiery Mountain."

"Now, don't be bothering Strider about that!" Sam exclaimed. "He's brought us this far, hasn't he? He led us safely through Midgewater - fought off those Black Riders - saved Master Frodo's life! If anyone can get us into Mordor, it's him."

Aragorn smiled. "I certainly hope so, Sam," he said, nodding to the hobbit. "At any rate I mean to try. Our only hope is that we can slip in unseen - and I fear it will be a greater challenge than any I have yet faced..."

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All characters and locations belong to Tolkien.

**Author's Note:** This chapter is the one I very nearly had to rewrite. As I originally envisaged it, it would be the story of how, with Éomer and Gimli gone, it would be Legolas who died defending Merry and Pippin - thus leaving Aragorn to head into Rohan alone, not incidentally swearing vengeance on the two faithless companions.

Only... without Boromir, Frodo would never have been scared off. And further: without Boromir, there would never have been any reason to consider going to Minas Tirith. The Company would have headed directly for Mordor.

In fact, even this story may be wrong: the only reason the Fellowship picked up boats in Lórien was to put off the decision of which way to go. Without Boromir, they could well have struck out directly east from the Golden Wood. But I've allowed myself a little artistic licence for this one.

This chapter, though, emphasises a key point of Tenth Walker stories: any change you make will have knock-on effects. You _cannot_ simply assume the book/movie plot will continue until you decide otherwise. The plot _will_ be derailed.


	8. Gandalf: The Living Walker

_Continued from Chapter 3_

The wintry sun rose pale in the east, casting long shadows behind the Fellowship. At their backs stood the towering Misty Mountains. Ahead lay the wide realm of Rhovanion - and the continuation of the quest.

Gimli turned from the sight and walked over to Gandalf. "I admit it," the dwarf said, "I expected the orc to betray us the first chance it got. But it brought us safely through. Thank you, Gandalf."

The wizard's bushy eyebrow rose slowly. "It is not I who deserves your thanks, Gimli son of Glóin."

Gimli nodded, accepting the correction, and looked at their tenth companion. "I believe this is the first time a dwarf has ever said such a thing to an orc, but... Snaga: you have my thanks."

The orc looked at him blankly, then turned to peer up at Gandalf. The wizard thought for a moment, then muttered a few words in her base tongue. Snaga looked back at Gimli, surprise evident on her face.

"Don't give me that, girl!" Gimli exclaimed, taking a step back. "It's nothing more than courtesy. It doesn't mean I trust you."

"Gandalf," said Merry, still peering at the landscape, "where are we? I looked at the maps in Rivendell, but this doesn't look anything like the far side of the Redhorn Gate."

"Nor should it!" exclaimed Gimli, pointing to the south. "Cruel Caradhras lies yonder, far away; in the dark roots of the world, we have come many leagues to the north."

"We have long known the orc-warrens were extensive beneath the Misty Mountains," Aragorn mused, and Legolas nodded agreement. "Now it is clear exactly how industrious they have been."

"These lands have a place in the stories of my people," Boromir said. "Not far from here lie the Gladden Fields, where Isildur was slain, and..." His gaze strayed to Frodo, and his voice faded into silence.

"It may be that we will pass through that cursed land," Gandalf declared. "To continue our quest we must journey east, over Anduin the Great - a crossing which may take us many leagues out of our way. And beyond the Great River lies the dark fastness of Dol Guldur in the forest of Mirkwood. It will be a perilous journey."

"And the... _Snaga_ will be of little help, I fear," said Gimli darkly.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Gandalf smiled. "She may yet surprise you."

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All characters and locations belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

**Author's Note:** So Snaga has done something many fanwriters long to achieve: bringing Gandalf alive to the far side of the Misty Mountains. Of course, in doing so she has altered their route - and even if she hadn't, there's no way the Fellowship would take an orc into Lórien.

It is possible to minimise the impact of Snaga's presence by simply having her lead the Fellowship on a different route through Moria, then die or escape at the end. That way they can still visit Galadriel - but the plot would still derail later. Gandalf would never allow Boromir to attack Frodo, and that would change everything.


	9. Saranese: The Eldest Walker

"The Elves of this land were of a race strange to us of the silvan folk, and the trees and the grass do not now remember them: Only I hear the stones lament them: deep they delved us, fair they wrought us, high they builded us; but they are gone. They are gone. They sought the Havens long ago."

The Fellowship of the Ring bowed their heads in silence for a moment. Then, sudden and startling, like a ray of sunlight through clouds, a fair voice rang out in laughter

"Only the stones, you say?" called the laughing voice. "Nay! There is one here who still knows their names - one who has waited all the long ages alone.

_Ah! Telperinquar, Teleporno, Alatáriel!_  
_How fast the years have flown away in Hollin's lonely dells!_  
_How long ago your voices sang on every verdant hill,_  
_And far away and ever lost are smiths with Elven skill!_  
_For ages long I linger here, the land you knew so well_  
_O! Telperinquar, Teleporno, Alatáriel!"_

The Company gazed in wonder, for on the crown of a hill stood a young man: taller than a hobbit or a dwarf, yet not so tall as a man or elf. His head was crowned with white flowers, and his clothes, much-patched and mended, were smudged with grass stains.

Gandalf broke the silence at last. "There are some who say that you and your kin are long since gone," he declared, "confined in little valleys and forests by the works of Men."

"And for many it is true," the stranger acknowledged. "Even I am constrained, by the crumbling Greenway and the East Road. But that is not so tight a bond."

"Gandalf," Frodo said in a whisper, coming up behind the wizard, "who is this? Do you know him? He reminds me of-" The hobbit stopped short, embarassed.

"He reminds you," Gandalf said, "of Bombadil, no doubt, and Goldberry too. And for good reason - they are kin, from far back before Man or Elf first awoke. They are the spirits of lonely places, the guardians of the natural world." He chuckled. "Radagast the Brown has devoted much study to them, though I do not believe he has encountered many."

The spirit - if such it was - ran down the hillside, then seemed to trip and tumble. In a flailing tangle of limbs and cloth he reached the bottom of the slope, but at the last moment leapt to his feet to stand in front of the Company. "Saranésë I was called, in those years long ago when elves walked this land. It is as good a name as any." He studied the Fellowship - each one briefly, but with a piercing and disconcerting gaze. "And what brings you to this desolate country, ten such diverse companions?"

"Did you hear that, Bill?" Sam muttered, patting the pony's flank. "That was recognition, if you please!"

"An errand of which we might not speak," Gandalf told Saranésë, "even to one such as you. We are but passing through - we seek the Redhorn Gate."

"Old Caradhras?" Saranésë asked, suddenly serious. "I would advise you against such a path. The mountain is restless - he has been alone too long, I think, with neither elf nor dwarf for companionship. Even I cannot quell his rage if he takes it into his stony heart to repulse you."

"Nevertheless, it is the road we must follow," Gandalf said. "Our quest takes us beyond the Misty Mountains, and there are few safe routes in these dark days."

"Then I shall journey with you," Saranésë announced, "for a time at least, and see whether I can do anything to ease your way."

* * *

**Disclaimer: **All locations and characters (except Saranésë), and the opening quote, belong to Tolkien.

**Author's Note:** Well, I was asked to make some non-female OCs...

Saranésë (Sa-ra-NAY-see, if you're not up on your Quenya, and for some reason you actually care...) is a nature spirit along the lines of Tom Bombadil (dodgy poetry and all!), and employs some of my theories on why Tom's lands are so small, and who he is. Nature spirits are one of the few unexplored but definitely present elements of Middle-earth - other examples are Ungoliant the giant spider (who is specifically said not to be an Ainu), and Caradhras itself (which has enough will and magic to both hate and attack the Fellowship). This is one way one could join the Fellowship - there are, of course, a heap of other options. We'll be seeing more of Saranésë in the future (probably).

And the three names in the 'poem' (which is my own, and modelled on one by Quickbeam) are the Quenya forms of Celebrimbor, Celeborn and Galadriel.


	10. Radagast: The Replacement Walker

As Aragorn explained the loss of Gandalf, Celeborn's eyes closed as if in pain. Galadriel kept her gaze on the Fellowship, her eyes deep and sad.

"Oh, no," said a new voice, "that won't do at all!"

Frodo's gaze swung to the source of the voice - a spot where he was sure no-one had been standing. Yet now there was definitely someone - a ragged old man, dressed all in muddy brown, and clutching a crooked staff.

"It's simply intolerable," the man continued, tapping the end of his staff on the floor. "First our Blue cousins wander off, then Saruman turns against us, and now Gandalf goes and gets himself killed? How utterly like him!"

Galadriel smiled slightly. "Come, now, Radagast," she said, "our guests are weary enough without your-"

"Haranguing?" Radagast guessed, and smiled, a startling expression that seemed to transform him from a crotchety old man into a long-forgotten friend. "Apologies, my lady. Sometimes I forget myself."

"A hazard of your art," Celeborn observed. "My friends, allow me to introduce Radagast the Brown. He is a great wizard-"

"Hardly that!" Radagast exclaimed. "I'm barely more than a dabbler these days, you know, quite content to stay with my birds and beasts. All these Men and Elves and Dwarves and Orcs and- why, these must be some of Gandalf's famous Hobbits." He squinted at Frodo, a disconcertingly piercing gaze, and nodded. "I see what he meant about you little people. But you're all still so complicated. Now, a squirrel or a starling, they understand what life is truly about."

Frodo was aware that Sam's mouth had dropped open, and that Pippin was trying not to laugh. "Frodo Baggins at your service, master Radagast," he said, bowing low. "Gandalf has spoken of you before - he told us of your aid when Saruman betrayed him."

"Help given by accident hardly counts as aid," Radagast snorted, but smiled again at Frodo. "Still, if we are going to be travelling together, it is good that you already know who I am."

There was a clatter, and Frodo turned to see Boromir bend down to pick up the whetstone he had been holding. "Travel with us?" the Man of Gondor asked, straightening. "You? But you're-"

"We can hardly have you continuing your quest without a wizard, can we?" Radagast asked. "And since I seem to be the only one around..."

"And what kind of wizard are you," Gimli retorted, "that's what I want to know. Gandalf we understood - what can you do to match him?"

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve," Radagast said, holding up a hand. There was a rush of wind, and as if from nowhere a great hawk descended to perch on the wizard's forearm. The wizard whispered to it for a moment, then turned back to the Fellowship. Frodo was struck by how shadowed his eyes suddenly seemed, how beak-like his nose, the way his robe seemed to float around him like vast wings. "Yes, I know a few things," Radagast said again, his voice soft, his eyes bright.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All characters and settings belong to Tolkien.

**Author's Note:** As suggested by Wizard's-Student (and elsewhere by Phobos and darklordaakmal, sort of), Radagast the Tenth Walker. My portrayal here of Radagast owes something to the Hobbit movie version - but not entirely. In general, I'm trying to hit the canonical character of 'Obsessed with animals to the point of becoming a recluse' and 'Master of shapes and changes of hue'. I also read Radagast as having a form of gentle mind control - while Saruman can directly control you, and Gandalf can soothe your worries, Radagast 'the Bird Tamer' can pretty much make you like him. Which is a very powerful skill if used correctly...

Like many of the other characters, you can bring Radagast in whenever you want. There's already a hint that he was wandering around Fangorn (the old man who releases the horses - Gandalf says it wasn't him, and Saruman should be holed up in Orthanc at that point), and basically anywhere you find nature, he could be. Then, of course, you need to find something to do with him...


End file.
